


Brienne the Beauty's Lapdog

by Diary



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Conversations, Canon Gay Character, Family, Friendship/Love, Late Night Conversations, Marriage of Convenience, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Religious Discussion, Romance, Scheming, Sharing a Bed, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7353988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pod comes into Brienne's service earlier than he did in canon. WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brienne the Beauty's Lapdog

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Game of Thrones.

At the birthday feast for Mace Tyrell, Renly feels a pang when he sees the bruised face of a squire to some sworn sword or landed knight.

It’s not uncommon for squires to have bruises, he knows. There was a time Loras practically slept standing due to the numerous bruises, cuts, and rashes covering his body, and he has vague memories of Stannis unconsciously wincing for days after fighting in tourneys.

However, this boy is the type of skinny even the most naturally rail thin aren’t, he never looks anyone in the eye, and Renly honestly doesn’t know if he’s ever heard the boy speak or not.

Much as everything’s telling him to do something, he’s not sure what can be done.

Ordering the knight to treat his squire better would do no good and would likely do more harm. The option to toss money at the knight and have the boy transferred to his household would be easy, but he’s wary to do so.

Though he’s been with no one but Loras, other men besides Loras have suffered rumours and ridicule due to the attention he’s paid them.

Beside him, Margaery places a hand on his and kisses his cheek. Quietly, she asks, “Why are you looking so at Ser Cedric Payne? Has he or the Lannisters offended you, my love?”

Making sure to keep his own tone low and discreet, he asks, “What do you know of his squire? The one standing a few behind him against the wall.”

She makes a small noise. “Regrettably, nothing. He’s very small, isn’t he? And so unobtrusive. Do you imagine he got those bruises from training or elsewhere?”

“Elsewhere,” he grimly answers.

She gives his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

…

After the feast, he wants nothing more than to go to his chambers, but with a firm grip on his hand, Margaery leads him around the hall. “Now, my love, I know you’ve been busy, but I ask that you hasten in finding a squire to tend to Lady Brienne. She is responsible for saving my brother’s life, and strange as it might be, if she is going to continue training with our knights, don’t you think it right she have someone who can properly tend to her? None of my maids are up to the task.”

He sees the boy and Ser Payne are nearby.

“Yes, my dear,” he answers. At her pinch, he makes his voice a bit louder, “I’m not unsympathetic, after all, even without her selfless bravery in rescuing Loras, House Tarth has long been a friend of ours, but Baratheon and Tyrell men alike have their pride, and so do most of our common folk. Even with the money I’m willing to offer, not many men are going to serve someone as- unique as Lady Brienne.”

Both the boy and the Ser Payne are subtly edging closer.

…

Once Margaery is deposited in her chambers, he leads the boy, Podrick Payne, to Brienne’s chambers.

“Lady Brienne can be blunt,” Renly tells him. “But she’s very kind. I think it best you not train until you’ve gotten a little more meat on your bones and you’re completely healed.” He glances at the bruise. “After you are, though, if you want to learn how to fight, believe it or not, there’s no one better to teach you than her. Before she saved Ser Loras’s life, she thoroughly beat him and many other men in a tourney.”

The boy might have mumbled a response, but Renly can’t be sure.

They arrive, and Renly knocks.

Brienne answers in her nightdress, and as usual, a fondness settles over him at the sight of her.

The nightdress is sturdily made, but it’s also lumpy and uneven in places. Blue with rainbow stripes in various places, there are also stags and a scattering of roses, though, they’re the most ill-made of the whole garment.

“Your grace,” she not-quite squeaks with her freckles quickly disappearing under bright red. She stiffens as if to fold into herself and gives him a curious, hopeful look.

“Lady Brienne. I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but you see,” he moves the boy forward by the shoulder, “I didn’t think it right to make this lad wait. This is Podrick Payne. Lady Margaery thought him likely to be a good addition to our joint house, and since all the knights already have squires and you don’t, I’d be much obliged if you’d see if he was acceptable to you.”

She gives him a confused, slightly suspicious look but slowly answers, “Of course, your grace. Hello, Podrick.”

The boy bows so fast he almost falls over his own feet.

“Would it be proper, my lord, for him to sleep here, or should I escort him-”

Not wanting to risk trouble by having her running around this late at night, Renly says, “When he’s older and stronger, he can sleep with the other squires. For right now, though, he’s barely out of childhood. Your reputation should be safe, my lady.”

“Yes, your grace." Opening the door wider, she says, “Come in, Podrick.”

…

Once Renly is fully out of sight, Brienne closes the door and studies the boy.

She doesn’t even remember seeing him, though, she does vaguely remember a Ser Cedric Payne.

“Are you hungry?”

“Ser- my lady?”

Oh, dear gods, I’ve been put in charge of a simpleton, she thinks in exasperation.

Sighing, she sorts through her basket of fruit and finds a stale loaf of bread and some wrapped hard cheese. During feasts, if she can possibly help it, she doesn’t attend, but since it’s not easy to sneak into the kitchens during such times, or at least, not easy for her, she tries to obtain food to discreetly take to her room and hold her over for a day or two, if necessary.

Pouring a cup of spiced honey water, she tells him, “Drink and eat whatever of this you want, but try not to make yourself sick.”

Slowly, he approaches the table.

She digs some furs out of her chest and starts arranging them on her couch. “I’ll see about getting a cot for you soon." Picking up a pillow from the bed, she wonders if he shouldn’t have it, but until recently, her bed, the biggest in the castle at the time, was too small for her, and her couch is definitely too small for her to sleep on.

She’d be willing to give her bed to a young child, but she’s not sleeping on the floor so a squire can have it.

Besides, she reasons, he’s so small he can easily fit on it, and it’s quite a comfortable couch.

She’ll never admit or press, but she believes Renly deliberately found her new bed for her and had it brought, although, what he and Lady Margaery claim is Lady Margaery was bequeathed it by some distant relative.

When she turns, she sees he’s nibbling, much like a rabbit, on the softer fruits, figs, fireplums, and peaches, though, the silly boy visibly shudders each time his tongue makes contact with the peach’s skin.

“Here,” she says. Going over, she gets her knife, feels a pang of pity at the boy’s quiet, fearful reaction, and peels the peach. “You don’t eat the skin. Well, our lord Renly does, but most don’t. If you want, I’ll teach you how to peel them, but not tonight.”

Setting it down, she cuts an apple into small pieces and removes the skin off a banana.

He eats the apple, banana, and peach and several more fireplums and figs. “Thank you, my lady,” he says almost too quietly to hear.

…

Brienne soon discovers Pod isn’t a simpleton. Shy and ignorant of certain things, he quickly absorbs information and, aside from fighting, can master most physical tasks speedily.

In addition, getting enough food has him rapidly shooting up and filling out so he’s an awkward but healthy mix of chubby and gangly.

He helps her with her armour, trails soundlessly after her, always refills her cup at just the right moment, and, once she discovers him having night terrors, sleeps at the foot of her bed rather than his cot every night.

She worries about his future but isn’t sure if anything can be done. Whenever she has him squire for someone else, they always quickly give him back, sometimes with loud complaints and sometimes with simple words about him being a good lad but ill-suited for them personally.

The rumours and jeers about her will never stop, and she’s long since accepted this. Seven forbid it, if anything ever happens to Renly, she can make her way as a hedge knight in the world, but Pod’s claim to nobility is practically non-existent, he’s not assertive enough to draw support from others, and he shows little hope for becoming a skilled fighter. He hears the rumours and jeers same as her, but as far as she knows, he’s never taken part, even when others have tried probing him into doing so.

Lapdog to Brienne the Beauty, no money, and a largely unimportant name, he’s never going to make a good marriage and is unlikely to even find an acceptable trade to enter with such words always following him. 

She tries to explain this to him and impress on him the need to find a proper knight to squire for, and he attentively listens, murmurs his assent, and still, nothing changes.

For now, she sets these worries aside in favour of hoping he isn’t caught.

There’s a feast for some Tyrell cousin’s wedding, and she hadn’t gotten quite enough spiced honey water to last the night. Before she could think it through, she’d agreed with Pod’s offer to sneak some from the kitchens.

Renly would be kind, she knows.

He’d be kind, amused, and a bit sorrowful. He’d order her to attend the next feast.

She wonders if him talking to her evokes similar feelings in him to what she has talking to Pod.

He goes on about unworthy boys, catty women, and how, as future ruler of Tarth, she must show pride for her island by representing it, and he promises her a place at his table and to dance solely with her (Margaery can dance with either Loras or other women).

She listens attentively, makes polite noises, and never attends any feast she isn’t absolutely forced to.

There’s a knock on the door, and when she opens it, she finds Pod with his arms overflowing.

“One of the c-cooks caught me, my lady. But she just gave me all of this and promised not to tell,” he explains with wide eyes.

…

As they eat, she asks, “Have you heard anything about how long the high septon plans to stay, Pod?”

Giving her an apologetic look, he answers, “For the rest of the month, at least, my lady.”

Groaning, she rolls her eyes. “Gods, save us from their most faithful servant.”

A brief smile crosses Pod’s face.

There’s silence until, abruptly, he inquires, “My lady- what people say about Lord Renly and Ser Loras- they say-” He trails off.

“Without being foul, yes, they do things with one another similar to what men sometimes do with women,” she replies. “Lady Margaery knows and seems not to begrudge either of them.”

“Is- is that why he’s staying, my lady?”

“In part, yes,” she answers. “The rest is politics.”

“My lady-” He hesitates.

She waits.

“Why didn’t he just marry Ser Loras?”

“Men can’t marry men, and women can’t marry women, Pod."

“Yes, I know, my lady, but why? And others say Lord Renly is a prince in all but name. Couldn’t he- change that?”

She considers best how to answer. Finally, she settles for, “Part of it has to do with noble houses needing heirs. Eventually, Seven grant it, Lord Renly and Lady Margary will conceive children. It won’t be pleasant for him and possibly not for her, but I imagine it will be worth it. They’re likely to have beautiful, kind, talented children. The rest- Religion is the best answer I can give.”

“I’ve heard, in Dorne, there used to be legitimate marriages between men and men and women and women. Of course, if this was true, it happened before the Andal invasion. I doubt even a Targaryn king or queen would dare try to make such a thing a reality.”

Part of her wonders how Pod feels about Renly and Loras and Margaery personally and how he feels about men with men and women with women, but she learned from growing up with her father, it’s usually best such things aren’t discussed.

She’s seen how happy Renly is around Loras, and she knows in her heart, unlike adultery and spawning bastards, theirs is no sin but two hearts and souls who have found their match.

“Do you worship the gods, my lady?”

“Privately,” she answers. “I place my faith in the seven.”

When he first came into her service, she took him to the Highgarden sept and godswood but told him she’d attend neither. Even when others offered, he’s never attended a sept service unless she did and, to her knowledge, has never gone back near the godswood.

For all Renly doesn’t like her skipping feasts and avoiding parties, after she’d explained why she doesn’t attend normal sept services, he’d smiled, nodded, and never brought the subject up again.

“Septas and septons are necessary, but perhaps, it would be better if people simply read The Seven-Pointed Star, prayed, and tried to do what they feel in their hearts to be right.”

Pod gives her a startled look. “According to Ser Cedric, that’s how my parents saw things, my lady.”

Based on his tone, she gets the impression Ser Cedric didn’t agree with such a philosophy himself or have much, if any respect, for his parents doing so.

Do you remember your parents, Pod?”

“No, my lady,” he answers. “Ser Cedric said they were raised in the faith of the seven but often visited a local godswood.”

…

During the week’s sept service, Brienne takes Pod to the godswood and sighs when Maester Edwyn appears.

“You don’t worship the old gods,” he accuses.

“I respect them,” she patiently replies. Moving Pod forward, she continues, “His parents might have worshipped them, and I feel it important he see if his heart inclines towards them.”

“Last time, he almost stepped on a frog! You _did_ knock a branch off the fern tree. In addition, there is no documentation the Payne family-”

“Maester Edwyn,” Margaery’s lilting voice interrupts.

Turning to look, Brienne bows. “Lady Tyrell.”

“Lady Brienne. Little Pod. Your diligence in protecting Highgarden’s godswood is invaluable, Maester Edwyn. However, in this instance, you need not trouble yourself. Lady Brienne is an honourable woman and a responsible mistress, only seeking to tend to the spiritual needs of her young ward. Podrick, go onto into the godswood while Lady Brienne and I walk.”

Bowing, he all but scurries away.

Giving Brienne one last suspicious, cantankerous look, Maester Edwyn almost literally vanishes into the shadows of some nearby trees.

Margaery smiles brightly and links her arm through Brienne’s. “I was wondering, Lady Brienne, if you know much of the Starks.”

“On a personal level, no, your grace,” Brienne answers. “My father was saddened such a once great man as Ned Stark lost his way. He hasn’t said anything of Robb Stark, but I’m sure he’s as loyal to the crown as always.”

In fact, her normally jovial father absolutely hates the Lannisters, has little use for most of the Baratheons, and publicly mourned Ned Stark’s death as much as he safely could. Though he hasn’t written anything about Robb Stark in his letters, she imagines he wouldn’t be shy about showing his support if he were speaking to her face-to-face.

“Grandmother desires Loras to wed Sansa or Arya Stark.”

Not knowing how to respond, Brienne keeps silent.

Stopping, Margaery turns to fully face Brienne, and Brienne turns, too.

Quietly, Margaery says, “There’s no easy way to say this: Ser Cedric Payne fell in battle. He died fighting for his masters, the Lannisters.”

Dread fills Brienne. “Has Ser Ilyn Payne said- I didn’t mean that as a jape or insult, has he expressed any desire to take Podrick in? I know he’s not much of a squire, but your grace, perhaps, I mean to say, that is-”

Giving her an odd look, Margaery shakes her head and places a hand on her arm. “Lady Brienne, little Pod is yours. If Ser Ilyn knows about him, he cares not. Only your dismissal will see him leaving your service.”

Brienne takes a small breath of relief.

“Your affection for the boy is part of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Margaery continues. “Because of you, one of Highgarden’s most prized roses is still alive and well. Tarth has long been neutral, and I don’t ask you to break that. When he gets a bit older, Podrick Payne might develop his own particular opinions and loyalties to certain houses, as is his right. Yet, if these opinions and loyalties differ from my husband’s and House Tyrell’s-” She lets the sentence hang.

“When Pod is old enough to develop such opinions, if they differ greatly, I will help him make his way elsewhere in the world,” Brienne responds. “Your husband was once kind to me during a time when I most needed it, your grace, and for this, I will forever champion him and, by extension, you. If there comes a great need, Tarth will break neutrality and stand by House Tyrell and Renly Baratheon.”

Even as the words were coming out, she knew better than to say them.

It’s not her place to speak for Tarth, and for all her father’s personal opinions, he’s always firmly believed Tarth remaining neutral is vital.

Yet, they feel right to say.

Margaery’s smile becomes even brighter, and she affectionately squeezes Brienne’s arm.

…

Soon after Loras returns home, Brienne is sparing when she hears, “My lady!”

Absently, Brienne knocks her opponent down and rushes over. “Pod? Did Maester Edwyn chase you out of the godswood?”

He rapidly shakes his head. “S-ser Loras received a raven from Lord Stannis, and he’s calling every nearby lord to come at once.”

“What does that have to do with me,” she impatiently asks. “Whatever new quarrel Lord Renly and his brother have-”

“My lady, he’s sent for Lady Olenna Tyrell. Forgive me, but as Lady of Tarth-” He gives her a wary look.

“Are you absolutely sure he’s sent for Lady Olenna?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Where are the lords meeting?”

It’s been said Lady Olenna is apt to die in Dorne, and everyone knows she rather than Lord Mace rules the family. Loras wouldn’t send for her unless there were extraordinary circumstances.

…

When they get to the feast hall, Renly comes over. “Good, I was just about to send for you, my lady. Doubtless, everyone will be sending ravens soon, but I’ll be sure to make sure one is reserved especially for you.”

“That’s very kind, my lord. What, if I may ask, however, is going on?”

“Soon,” is his only answer. “Podrick, get your mistress some spiced honey water and perhaps something to eat. Hurry.”

With this, he wanders away.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the royals of Highgarden to arrive, and Loras announces, “My lords and ladies, a raven from Stannis Baratheon arrived today. King Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen are the product of Cersei Lannister and her twin brother, Jaime Lannister. Read it with your own eyes.”

There the murmurs and gasps, he hands a piece of paper to a nearby man, sits down next Renly, and looks over at where Margaery is sitting on the other side of Renly.

Brother and sister share a look.

The letter arrives to her.

All she can think is, _Why wasn’t the kingslayer executed years ago?_

She’s always privately imagined King Robert’s death was his doing. She can’t remember if he’d been captured already when it happened, but if so, he easily could have set the plans in motion before he left King’s Landing. One thing no one has ever accused him of being is unintelligent.

The man beside her makes a sound of annoyance when she hands it to Pod rather than him, but she ignores him.

When relative quietness descends, Loras and Margaery stand and hold hands over the sitting Renly. “House Tyrell will not back a bastard born of incest. The princess and young prince are likely blameless, but King Joffrey must be removed, and their parents should be tried for treason.”

There’s cheers of support, but Brienne notices how subtly tense the siblings and Renly himself looks.

Usually, even during serious events, he’s talkative, at least. Most of the time, he’s loud and cheerful. When he sits so quietly with such a thoughtful look on his face, everyone knows there are serious thoughts and conflicted emotions running through him.

“However,” Loras continues, “Stannis is not fit for the throne, either. He’s a merciless man who has harmed House Tyrell in the past, made enemies out of those from other countries, and is persecuting those who follow the seven and the old gods at the word of a foreign red priestess.”

She can argue with none of this but finds herself praying, Not Edric Storm. Please, don’t back him. He’ll be nothing but a puppet for Stannis, and he’ll never do anything to avenge the deaths of his half-siblings by Joffrey.

Perhaps, such a path is sensible, but she’s gotten the impression he simply doesn’t care, and she can’t understand how anyone can take the death of blood, especially young, innocent blood, so easily.

Mya Stone, she’s heard careful, vague whispers, might have tried to gather an army to march King’s Landing before being stopped. What no one is afraid to say aloud is Mya was angry, cried, and only fled to Bravos soon after Lord Varys himself visited the Vale.

When the news of what Joffrey or Cersei (she has no doubt it was Joffrey, yet, others opine it was the queen mother) had done to the natural born children of Robert, some of them actual children and one of them a mere baby, Highgarden had mourned even deeper than it had during Ned Stark’s death soon after.

Renly reaches up, puts a hand on both of their wrists, squeezes, and then, gently pulls their hands apart. Standing, he says, “My lords and ladies, it’s no secret I’ve often had disagreements with my brother, Stannis. I had them with Robert, too. However, my departed elder brother did earn the throne by being a warrior in a time the realm needed strong, brave, appropriately ruthless men.”

“I’m not a warrior. I don’t deny or see shame in confessing this. Instead, I strive to be kind, and when I can’t be, I strive to fair and just. Stannis places laws and customs over recognising all are flawed, all have some goodness in them, and not everyone can or should be interacted with the same way. Even before I married sweet Margaery, known far and wide for her endless charity,” he inclines his head towards her, and she gives a small curtsey and soft smile, “I mourned for the hungry and roofless and, though not much, did as I thought I could to help them at the time.”

“If I, Baratheon by blood, Tyrell by love, were king, I would strive to bring a new era of peace, learning, and comfort to the Seven Kingdoms. And if their should be a need for a warrior to lead, there is none better than my wife’s brother, the Knight of the Flowers, Ser Loras, one of the most skilled fighters and, from my view, the bravest, knights in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Reaching over, he squeezes the back of Loras’s neck.

Loras gives him an even softer smile than Margaery had, reaches up to squeeze his arm, and then, turns. “And I would fight tirelessly in the name of King Renly, Queen Margaery, and Highgarden.”

There’s excitement but also, to her puzzlement, caution in the response of the room.

She never would have thought about it, but now, she sees how right this is. Of course, Renly should be king. How wonderfully the realms will benefit from it.

Picking up her cup, she stands. “To King Renly and Queen Margaery, long may they both reign!”

Soon, more are standing and toasting, “To King Renly and Queen Margaery, long may they reign!”

…

She and Pod stare at her closet full of dresses she’s never worn.

“Perhaps, I should ask Queen Margaery for a few maids to help us pack. Or perhaps, she could simply find a better use for them. Fabric that can be made useful to others? Doubtless, my father will insist on sending me a whole slew of new, worthless dresses. Oh, gods, I’ll deal with this, later. Did you send for my archery equipment, Pod? There’s going to be endless tournaments, now. I’m not as good as most of the knights when it comes archery, but I can still win a few rounds in King Renly’s name. Ser Loras is absolutely hopeless at archery.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And Barthaniel?”

Barthaniel is an old mule she’s had since childhood. She’d considered leaving him on Tarth, but as if sensing this, he’d started kicking and biting anyone who came near him. Once they arrived at Storm’s End and he was settled in the stables, however, he reverted back to his friendly, docile self.

“Fed and comfortably caged, my lady. The sleeping drought will be ready soon.”

Pausing in handing him nightdresses to fold, Brienne finds him studying her intently.

“What is it, Pod?”

Jumping, he blushes and looks down. “Nothing, my lady. Only- I’ve never seen you so excited and happy. It’s- nice to see.”

She smiles. “Life has taken a magnificent turn, Pod. I only pray I can live through the enemies I’ll soon fight and see King Renly’s reign.”

At this, an outright frown appears on Pod’s face, though, he quickly tries to hide it.

Remembering a conversation she and Queen Margaery once had, she sighs. “Pod, if you don’t agree with what Lord Renly is doing-”

“No, my lady,” he interrupts. “King Renly gave me to you. I’m forever in his debt, and if you believe he’ll make a good king, then, I believe it, too. I know you must fight, but-” He visibly fumbles for words.

Reaching over, she puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Pod, though, you might decide to leave yourself with my blessings you're older, I promise, if I can help it, I’ll never leave you. Here.” Getting up, she goes over to get the small money pouch she often carries and takes out a pair of Sapphire earrings. Bringing his arm up and opening his hand, she places them inside. “Protect these, Pod. They once belonged to my mother. I’ve written my father about you. If I should fall, find a ship to take you to Tarth and go to Evenfall Hall, tell my father, Lord Selwyn, you are Podrick Payne, and return these to him. He’s promised you’ll always have a place in the Tarth household.”

Looking almost teary, Pod murmurs, “Thank you for such kindness, my lady.” Carefully, he closes his hand around them.

…

Soon, she and Pod are standing on a ship and watching Highgarden get smaller and smaller.

Seven protect King Renly and quickly see him seated on the Iron Throne, she prays.  


End file.
